


The Dark Childe

by Unseelieraven



Category: Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Gen, Sort Of, Stream of Consciousness, unbetaed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 17:26:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15890664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unseelieraven/pseuds/Unseelieraven
Summary: What if Santino's maker hadn't been just some random vampire? Marius reflects on one of his greatest regrets.





	The Dark Childe

**Author's Note:**

> I'm thinking of making this a short, '5 makers Santino didn't have' piece. If you have any suggestions for other makers please post them.

Marius watched from across the room as Santino and Amadeo played chess, the flickering candle light catching the reds of his child’s hair and the endless dark pools of his other child’s eyes. Amadeo, his greatest mistake, who he should have never turned so young and Santino, his greatest failure, who he gave up on too easily. 

The Roman turned the page of his book, but the words before him failed to catch his interest. Here on Night’s Island all of his greatest regrets had gathered to judge him like avenging angels and yet none had yet confronted him. Santino had been nothing but courtly grace, Amadeo silent after their sweet reunion, Pandora once again lost in her own world, and Lestat lost to his books. 

Three children and a foster fledgling; he no longer had Those Who Must be Kept to hide behind and yet he was too frightened to approach any of them. Lestat and Pandora should be easily, neither seem to hold anything against him, but his youngest two…

Amadeo, at least, claimed him as a maker. Santino, he had so failed that the coven master claimed to have been sired by a roaming Norman. 

He had heard from others the story the Pope of the Damned as spun, brief as it was. A common man in life, he had been the only survivor in his town after an outbreak of the Black Death, Santino had claimed. The raven-haired man was near death when a vampire traveling through the area had found him and turned him, God’s will, he claimed, so that he might form the Children of Darkness and bring the truth to vampires. Funny, how his Norman maker simply disappeared from the story after he was turned.

Marius sighed silently as he peered over his book at the pair. On the board, they were evenly matched both seeming able to predict where the other would move. This wasn’t their first chess game and he wondered how often they’d played in Rome. 

A common man…true enough, but odd that Santino had neglected to tell the others that he had been a priest in life as he had been in death. And the Black Death…yes, that much had been true. He’d found Santino kneeling before the altar, a vison of beauty amidst a world of decay and suffering, half-staved and gripped by fever, begging for God to take him and spare what was left of his flock. 

God had no answers for his priest, but Marius had been captivated by the man. His flock he could not save, but he did take the man far from the filth and stench of his past life. He’d given his new child all of the comfort he could have wanted, all of the knowledge and books. He’d been determined to stamp out the superstitions of his mortal life. He should have had more patience. He should have had the foresight to fill the void of his child’s faith with something. He should have shown him the Mother and Father. He did none of those things and when he tired of Santino constant clinging to his old beliefs, his need to find vampires’ place in God’s plan, he abandoned him and moved on to better companions.

He never imagined that Santino would reenter his life as he did. He’d never thought that his dark child would attack him and steal away his brother. Perhaps it was further revenge on him, taking the fledgling he saw as his replacement and remaking him in Santino’s image. Perhaps it was an odd show of love, to spare his brother and make him a leader in Santino’s cult. Either way, in the end, Santino had won Amadeo and when the Roman next saw his beloved child he could only see a copy of Santino; his mistakes doubled.  
He should have never left Santino; he should have never taken so long to find Amadeo – should have had the courage to speak to him when he found him. 

Over the top of his neglected book he saw the game end. Amadeo won this round, an impish smile on his face as he regarded Santino with a challenging look, that Marius was surprised to realize the other vampire didn’t seem to mind. His redhead angel left the board to slip out into the balcony, Santino’s eyes following him as he went before the black orbs caught Marius’s gaze. There was pride in them and a challenge of his own. The board was empty, Marius realized, if he even wanted to talk to Santino now would be the time. He could claim him, demand to know why he’d taken Amadeo. He could apologize. Instead, the Roman rose and left to check on Lestat.

Now was not the time to talk, he decided, if Santino wished the world to think his maker was a random vampire of no importance then Marius would allow it. 

His child would come to him if he wished it otherwise. Let him keep his fiction, it was the only apology the Roman could give.


End file.
